Jail Bird
by Bond.Jane
Summary: This is the story of the second Brennan as told by himself. There are little snippets of info on Bones as well. Go on, give this guy a fair chance to tell his story and don't forget to review
1. I'm Born

Chapter one

Chapter one

Russ Brennan was a jail bird. At least for the time being. His probation had been extended for four months for jumping bail, he missed his girlfriend and her daughters whom, he cherished as his own, did not know he was a convicted felon. Still, he was counting his blessings. Who would have said his life would turn out like this? When you're seventeen, Mr Popularity and your family loves you, it is difficult to predict that at 36 you'll be doing time for something or other. Yes, all in all, Russ Brennan was very happy to be missing his 20 year high school reunion.

As it was, Russ was sitting through a creative writing class. It took jail to make him sit through one. Mr Friedman, a mousy little man, was addressing a room where 20 mildly dangerous convicts sat in tables that made them look like over inflated versions of themselves. It made them uncomfortable as the inadequacy of the chair more than mimicked- it morphed into their own. But what made Russ stick with the humiliating chair and the good for nothing class was the need to impress the parole board with an exemplary behaviour. The board and, of course, Tempe, his not so little sister.

Mr Friedman was handing out slim notebooks to each of the inmates and, in his quiet manner, explaining what he wanted out of his pupils, however certain that few would even bother.

"I want you to write your story. This is not a test, so you can opt for fiction if you want, but I would prefer an honest, hand in heart biography. We all have our secrets, our sorrows, our embarrassments. Tap into those things, those feelings and put yourselves into paper. It will be private. You think of me as a priest" he chuckled lightly at his own joke "or your lawyer. Nothing will be held against you!"

Russ took his note book and looked at it with increasing dread, the feeling augmenting when he looked at all the accusatory blank paper demanding that he rise to the occasion. _Tempe_, Russ, thought_, would have no issues with the assignment_. _Hadn't she kept a stash of little notebooks she used to fill with stories since the time she had learned her ABCs?_ His mouth twisted in a feeling that was, in equal parts, sibling rivalry, pride and old sense of insufficiency. Mr Friedman, keen observer of humans, mentally compared the look in Russ' face at that very moment to a dear caught in the headlights of a speeding car. He also made a mental note to use in his projected book on jail life.

Russ knew. The difficult part was to start. Blank paper held dread, not promise. The subject seemed unremarkable, unworthy of the time and effort. Mr Friedman approached him in a manoeuvre he wouldn't try with many of Russ' counterparts.

"Start simple, Brennan. Don't go for the Nobel Prize." Russ nodded, silently. Took two deep breaths and felt himself relax. He went for the David Copperfield approach.

_I am born_

He looked at it for a moment. What of his childhood? It would be a short chapter. He had grown into a man at 7.

_I was born Kyle Keenan in 1972. I had a regular mum and a regular dad, a regular life, and when I turned 4, a got a regular little sister. In 1979 Kyle died and Russ Brennan was born. My daddy, an affable man told me to forget my name and he gave a new one. He impressed on me the gravity of the hour by pointing at my mother and sister and telling me how I would be killing them if I ever remembered my real name. I learned the value of deceit. Then, he pointed a man standing outside our house and told me that I was to run and protect my baby sister. I learned how to leave. I was seven, but I took that responsibility. On hindsight, as I father, I ask myself what could a seven year old have done had that man come calling back. The child I was then became Russ, with a not so regular mum, a not so regular dad and a not so regular life. My eyes always on the other side of the street, my baby sister always under watchful eyes. I would call out "Marco", she would answer back "Polo". From when she was two to the moment I left her alone in an empty house where there should have been a family, I was her safe place and that was our safe word._

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	2. I grow up

Chapter one

Chapter 2

_I grow up_

_With time, I grew into Russ' skin. Mr All American. Popular. Surrounded by friends. Idolized by family and friends. For my dad I could do no wrong. For my mum, I was always her little prince. For my sister, I was the centre. I miss that, that trust in her eyes. The bickering, the rivalry, the practical jokes. I was the one who taught her how to ride a bike, not my dad. He was too demanding and he scared her. I taught her that. All in all, I think we spoiled her. She was our little cherub. Oh God, I'm fed up with people confessing only to villainies. Aren't there any real people out there to confess to cowardice? Well, I confess to the greatest. When not so regular mum and dad took off- never mind their reasons now- when she needed me the most, I left her. I was 19. Mr prom king. Russ Brennan had taken over from Kyle so completely that I forgot how to take care of my 15 year old sister. I did not want to play house. I did not know how to become a dad for her. I took the easy way out. When the bleeding hearts of the world told me that she would be better off in foster care, it was easy to believe them. I was happy to believe them. When she pushed me away that Christmas Eve, I felt relief. I packed a back pack. It's so easy to travel lightly. I looked back convinced that I was doing what was best. I was not. _

_My little awkward sister, always the odd one, out did not have the skills to survive. Not on her own. I chose to ignore how her day long silences would become a strange way of life. Most of all, I chose to forget how I had promised so long ago that I would take care of her. Apparently, running is the one thing that the Brennans do well. _

_In a way, 19 year old Russ was a lot less than little Kyle had been. Blame it on example, I guess. _

_I kept an eye on my Tempe, though. I saw her going in and out of foster homes. I saw her eyes dying a little every time. I saw bruises and, every once in a while, got to kick some of the bastards that had bruised her. Not that I would let her know it. Hell, not that she would want to know it. I would call her every year on her birthday. She never took the call. I think she must have found a safe place inside her, because she had no need for me anymore. Or so I chose to believe._

_From then onwards, I lived on expeditious skills. The charm, the clean look… need is the mother of reinvention. I found creative ways to make a quick buck. I learned how to cheat. But, not even as crook I'm good… eventually, the law ended up catching up with me. In and out of jail for small time stuff. Not good enough to make it to the major league, not small enough to stay out of the radar. The hero I was supposed to have been during my teens got buried under the soot of time and the lure of easy living._

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	3. I become a man

Chapter one

Chapter three

_I become a man_

_You know how some people change your life with small acts of random kindness? Well, that was Amy. Amy saving Russ. I'd been working at this carnival in a small town in North Carolina. I had just made bail and had found it easier to just do an honest day's work than to go back to jail for what I know would be hard time this time around. I was putting to better use my mechanic skills. Mr Fix it for the machinery in the carnival. Suddenly there's this cute little girl- and but for the eyes I could have been looking at a three year old Tempe- asking me to find her mummy. I took her in my arms and her baby smell took me by the heart and tugged at it. We found Amy running around like crazy with Emma in tow, her eyes full of determination to find her little Halley. My Amy would never leave her girls behind. She had me at hello. She did not think the worst of a man holding her baby girl. She thought the best. There are people like that, you know? People that heal you just by trusting you. I needed that, especially because I did not trust my self. For her, I became better. Eventually, I grew into a man. A family man. There is something to be said for that, for the achievement of going home at the end of the day knowing that what you've done, you did it for those who love you unconditionally. _

_Eventually, and because nothing in life comes for free, old ghosts caught up with me. My dead mother; my father, alive and on the run;, my sister, not so little any more, not helpless, but still vulnerable. The world does revolve to end up always in the same place. So, for one reason or another, here I am again, in jail. Except this time, I'm not running. My sister has forgiven me for leaving. Eventually, I will forgive myself. There are small rewards for going about your life without giving up, without running._

_I should have been the hero of, at least, my own life. Instead, I had to be saved. By my watchful and not so bad father, by my little sister and her friends, by the woman I love, by her children. Life teaches you some lessons. Most of them are for free. Here is mine: It may be that we are born alone and that we die alone. But if you're really lucky, if you're careful and count your blessings everyday, you may just end up realizing that, at least, the journey between those two markers does not have to be lonely._

The end.

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